


Ownership

by pkabyssinian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Sammy's bitch, M/M, and by things I mean Dean, but you can't keep them, don't touch sammy's things, kinda dark!Sam, well you can touch them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:18:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkabyssinian/pseuds/pkabyssinian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing Sam understood, it was ownership.  Sam owned Dean.  Owned him mind, body, and soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ownership

If there was one thing Sam understood, it was ownership.  He loved how in their lives, everyone underestimated him, thought he was the shy one, the good one.  How they thought Dean was the loud one, the dangerous one.  Oh, occasionally there were some who got it right… that Sam was the brains and the brawn, really they both were though.  If anything, Dean was probably smarter than Sam.  But showing how smart he was or how he could be competent at _anything_ had been beaten out of Dean when he was fairly young.  That hadn’t been Sam’s doing though and Sam resented it.

But Sam owned Dean.  Owned him mind, body, and soul.  It didn’t matter where Dean went, who Dean fucked, or what Dean wanted.  He always came back to Sam.  And Sam loved leaving his mark on Dean, in the soft places that didn’t show.  He’d bruise Dean where only he would see it so Dean would carry the ache with him, knowing it was Sam who’d done it.  Knowing that Sam would do it again so if Dean was ever tempted to forget… well, Dean knew better than to do that.  Another lesson Dean learned early on.  Sam had taught that lesson with intent.

John never had any time for Sam once his obsession took hold.  It was all hunting, killing the bad, looking for clues about what had killed Mary.  In his head, Sam only ever used their names.  Mom and Dad were an alien concept to him.  Not to Dean, though.  Never to Dean… so Sam kept up appearances when talking about them.  After the night with the fire, Sam had been placed firmly in Dean’s care. 

There wasn’t a time that Sam could remember where he hadn’t been told “ask Dean” or when he’d heard something other than “Dean, take care of Sammy.”  Always present was the idea that Dean was there to cater to Sam’s whims.  Which was borne out by the fact that he only ever had to ask once for something with Dean.  He might be told no, but one look from Sam was enough to make Dean crumple.  It began as sad eyes or a pouty lip and these days it was a hot glare, a warning and a promise all in one.

He should’ve known then how things would end.  When Sam was 16 he decided to lose his virginity and who better to show him, to take him through it than Dean?  Sam had always been jealous of the girls (and honestly, some of the guys) that Dean gave his time and affection to.  Never enough to make Sam think that Dean would leave, and never enough that Sam couldn’t effectively cock block his brother with nothing more than a look.  Choosing Dean seemed logical, he hadn’t even had to push hard to make Dean give in.  Just stared at his brother with loving eyes, unbuttoned his shirt and asked so sweetly, “Please, Dean.  Just this once…”

Yeah, Dean had outdone himself.  He’d worshipped Sam’s body, wrung as much pleasure out of Sam as he could.  He had to have known that it would be addicting, that Sam wouldn’t let him go after that.   And he hadn’t.  He’d been vengeful and possessive, doing his best to make sure that the only person Dean wanted was Sam.  He’d hardwired Dean to be _his_ , he’d done it knowing that he’d be leaving and that Dean would be alone.  It had amused to Sam to think that his brother would want to go out and fuck and fight but he’d be inhibited by the knowledge that Sam wouldn’t that. 

Sam knew he wanted a different life, one where he could get away from his family and be his own man.  As a teenager it was smotheringly claustrophobic how Dean was everything to him.   Sam didn’t understand then; didn’t see how he was more than everything to Dean.  All Sam could see was that it was laughably easy to manipulate Dean into what Sam wanted.  But Sam wanted to be able to say that he could accomplish something that didn’t involve his family and so he broke Dean’s heart and went away.  He did it because he could, because Dean deserved to be hurt.  Deserved it because not once did Dean ask to come with him.  Not once did he ask Sam to stay.  He just let Sam go because Sam wanted it.

Now, though, now it was different.  Sam had gone away to college and found Jess.  He told himself he loved her, told himself that she was like what Dean would be had he be given a normal life.  He’d thought he could settle down and stop missing Dean like he had lost a limb.  Sam berated himself for missing being the center of someone’s universe, he told himself how he’d hated it, how it had suffocated him.  Made him want to run away, made him want to be normal. 

By the time Dean had shown up at his shitty apartment he’d been more than ready to go, more than happy to have Dean doing his best to impress Sam, to woo Sam back.  It had been amusing watching Dean’s face fall as Sam pretended that Dean meant nothing to him.  The first night, in that stinking motel room, Dean had tried to touch Sam and Sam had acted so shocked.  So horrified that Dean would try to force himself on Sam… oh, Sam could laugh for _days_ at the thought of Dean’s face then.  How comically contrite he’d been, as if he really had done something wrong.  As if Sam didn’t want Dean, didn’t want to devour him whole.

He didn’t bother to tell Dean that he was planning on blowing the interview for law school.  On losing his hard won scholarships.  He’d make it look like he was coming home in disgrace.  Sam had it all planned out how he’d turn Dean against John, how they’d go off on their own.  They’d do some hunting, yeah, but they’d also do whatever it was Sam wanted.  He’d have Dean all to himself. 

Sam couldn’t decide if it was luck or if the Universe just knew that he and Dean should be together.  Seeing pretty Jess pinned to the ceiling had been a shock, but it also meant that he could cut ties with all the people at Stanford easily.  None of them would think to look for Sam, they’d just remember how sad it had been that his poor girlfriend had died tragically and that Sam had lost his will to stay in school.  No reason to go looking for him, no reason to remind him of what he’d lost.  They didn’t know they’d done that all along just by being there and not being Dean.

He’d played grief stricken, it gave him time to think.  To plan.  To decide, exactly, what he wanted from Dean.  Because, as always, he was the one who had to set the boundaries.  In the years he’d been away he’d changed and he wasn’t foolish enough to think that Dean hadn’t changed as well.  Sam didn’t want a simpering sycophant, he wanted a hunter, a fighter.  He wanted Dean to feel free to indulge in his own desires.  Sam had learned that giving Dean a long leash worked better than anything else. 

Dean wasn’t built to be faithful, he had itches that Sam wouldn’t be able to scratch.  When he’d been younger that had bothered Sam.  But having tasted his own kind of freedom, Sam knew that Dean couldn’t be everything that Sam needed him to be.  And Sam wanted to be able to scratch his own itches any way he pleased.  Plus, it was fun to watch Dean work his wiles, to watch his brother worm his way into people’s affections.  Dean was so open, so honest about it.  He made people think that Dean really cared about them, that they had his undivided attention.  Sam knew differently.  He made sure that it was all an act, the only person that got all of Dean was Sam.  Dean belong to him, body and soul.

Which hadn’t used to be true, not at all.  Before Sam had died at Cold Oak, well that was where it all began to go pear shaped.  Dean had sold his soul to get Sam back.  And, yes, Sam was grateful but he was also pissed.  Dean couldn’t barter away something that belonged to Sam.  Dean couldn’t be allowed to think that there was any way that hell or some demon would be allowed to collect and keep something that was owned by Sam Winchester.

Sam had spent a year looking for a loop hole, a way to break the deal.  And in the times between he left his marks on Dean’s body so if his brother did go to hell, everyone there would see the bruises and know that Dean was possessed by something that would break all of hell to his will to get his brother back.  In the end Sam had been thwarted, Dean had been snatched away from him.  Then Dean had been snatched out of hell before Sam could rip him from there.  It still rankled that Castiel had done what Sam hadn’t been strong enough, yet, to do.  He’d been close.  So close. 

Then he’d been incensed that Dean seemed to genuinely care for the angel.  Sam had made it abundantly clear that the only person allowed into Dean’s heart was Sam.  He had thought that when Dean had turned the Colt on their father that Dean understood.  But, no.  Castiel had somehow slithered its way into Dean’s affections.  Dean’s real affections, not the ones that he played at with everyone else.  It was probably because of what Mary used to say, that there was an angel watching over her boys.  Dean had always wanted to be their mother’s favorite and had been until Sam had displaced him. 

It was disgusting how the angel followed Dean, how it acted like Dean was its God, like Dean was something more than just Sam’s toy.  Sam thought about forbidding Dean from Castiel but decided that it would be far more entertaining to watch his brother seduce an angel of the Lord.  To tip and tarnish its halo, to make it a base creature full of want and desire for a Winchester.  Sam was right, it was just as entertaining as Sam making a demon want to do the right thing in order to please a Winchester.  Proof that their bond and blood was enough to make both heaven and hell their playthings.

It was even better, in the darkness, making Dean beg Sam to touch him.  Begging Sam to “please, please Sammy, let me”.  Let me touch you, let me fuck you, let me suck you, let me be yours.  How Sam loved how those words fell from Dean’s perfect lips.  How perfect Dean’s lips looked wrapped around his cock.  How Dean would suck him in as if Sam were air and Dean was drowning, dying.  How prettily Dean would whimper as Sam spread Dean’s legs and pushed deep within his brother.  How Dean’s voice would go deep and gravelly and demand more, deeper, harder.  And Sam would give it to him.  Sam gave it all to him.

Because of that, Sam could be magnanimous.  Dean could go out and fuck whatever he wanted.  Men.  Women.  Disgraced angels of the Lord.  Anything.  Because he always came back to Sam.  Sometimes he’d come back with their scent on him, with their marks on his body, their come on his skin.  Which meant that Sam had to take that from Dean, remake Dean in his image.  He’d fuck the idea of those others out of Dean until he’d forget them and the only word he knew, that he’d scream like a prayer, was Sam’s name.

Which brought them here.  With something older and darker and far more possessive looking to hook into Dean.  The Darkness, they called it.  To Dean it had appeared as a woman.  To Sam it was a serpent.  But it wanted Dean, wanted more from Dean than Sam was willing to let Dean give.  If it thought it could best the Winchesters, well it wouldn’t be the first thing to think so.  Darkness, they said… they didn’t know the darkness in Sam. They didn’t know how far Sam would go, what rules Sam was willing to break to keep Dean with him.

Hadn’t they killed Death?  Hadn’t they both saved and ended the world?  Anything that had stood against them, anything that had thought to divide them, one from the other, had fallen.  There was nothing that could make Sam give Dean up.  This was just another challenge.  When the dust cleared, Dean would still be his.  Sam owned him.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first thing I've written in almost seven years. And this is after promising myself that I was done with spn... le sigh. I know this is probably a bit rough around the edges but I'm still getting my feet wet with this whole fanfic thing again. Any commentary would be appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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